Thursday, 2 April 2015

***Pre-Order Blitz*** The Cat Café By Caroline Bell Foster


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The Cat Cafe - front cover

Book Title: The Cat Café 
Author: Caroline Bell Foster 
Genre: Romance/Interracial 
Release Date: April 2, 2015 
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book Blurb

Trinity Peters has three great loves in her life; books, cake, and mostly cats - her CAT CAFÉ in Nottingham allows her to indulge in all three. Amiable, attractive and ambitious, she knows what she wants in life and sets about making it happen. Everything is going nicely for her until a handsome city slicker, with the suits to match, enters her café by mistake one evening. Nothing would ever be the same for her again.

Blake Lawrence is the well heeled city boy who loves to play big city games. He wouldn't normally venture too far from the bright lights of London, but business interests direct him to the East Midlands. He meets, and is captivated by, the sexy, mad cat woman Trinity Peters.

excerpt

As much as Blake liked seeing his friend Becca, being at her house, her stomach swollen with baby number two, whilst baby number one was still in nappies was not his idea of dinner party bliss. He’d escaped as soon as he could, not missing the look of mischief on his dear friend's face.

He and Becca went way back, she was the only female friend he hadn’t slept with. They’d been at boarding school together in France, or was it Italy? He couldn’t remember, but they’d been friends. He was Godfather to baby number one, Dominick and he did all his Godfatherly duties like be there at the Christening, buying bonds in the little boys name and generally asking how he was once a month. Yes he was a good Godfather.

Too early to go home, well to the flat he used whilst in Nottingham, Blake decided to walk around. It was barely nine o’clock, all the shoppers had gone as Nottingham still operated by the antiquated five o’clock shop closure system that was a pain for busy people like his PA when he needed him to get him something. He always grumbled about the early closing times.

People were heading out to restaurants, no doubt filling up before dancing off the excess of calories he thought, as he walked through Hockley. He could see his building in the distance and knew he only needed to walk for another fifteen minutes and he'd be there.

A group of women dressed in a haze of fluorescent pink and white surged out of a pub and surrounded him like a swarm of angry bees.

"Oi, here’s a nice one," one of them said.

Smiling tightly Blake tried to extricate himself, but two looped their arms through his stopping him.

"She’s getting married next week," one with spiky black hair explained. "See?" She pointed to a blonde wearing a pink tutu and white sash and a gleaming plastic crown.

"Congratulations." Blake murmured, trying to hustle the women along up the narrow lane.

"Would you like to come for a drink? Her last hurrah and all that?" another one asked hopefully, batting her overly long false eyelashes at him.

"No thanks."

"Aww please," spiky black-haired woman pouted up at him. "You're a nice looking bloke, tall and handsome. What colour are your eyes?" she moved in closer to look into his eyes. "Blue or green?"

Blake gritted his teeth. What was it with these northerners and harassment? Sexual harassment worked both ways.

Peeling himself away as firmly as he could he quickly walked around them and into the nearest shop. Then stopped.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

There were cats everywhere. He blinked just to see if the curry he’d had for dinner wasn’t playing with his brain cells.

Yes, there were cats of all different sizes all different colours on the other side of the glass wall.

He turned to go, but a girl with a red rose in her hair caught and held his attention.

She’d changed. It was criminal to hide what she’d been hiding in that boxy suit she’d worn earlier at the bank.

Now, as she was bent over a cat, he could see her cute derrière and slender legs in a pair of blue faded jeans. The fabric was worn and faded where it cupped her bottom.

The door opened behind him.

"Go on in please mate, before that hen party change their minds and find me." A man, not much younger than Blake said taking off his shoes.

"Take your shoes off or Trinity will eat you alive," the man advised. "You don’t bring outside dirt near the cats."

"What is this place?" Blake asked, puzzled.

The man grinned.

"The Cat Café, I come here every chance I get," the man explained. "My girlfriend is allergic to cats but I like to come here and chill out and watch some football if I can wrangle the remote off Trinity."

"Cat café?"

"Yes mate," the man stuck his hand out. "I’m Travis,"

"Blake."

They shook hands.

"Take your shoes off and stick 'em in there," Travis advised, pointing to a row of wooden lockers with keys, watching as Blake followed his instruction with obvious reluctance. "Use this."

After placing his shoes in the locker he palmed the key the young man gave him, then following his example Blake put on a pair of disposable socks. Travis then pumped hand sanitiser on his hands and indicated for Blake to follow his example

"Are you ready?" Travis asked, practically bursting with excitement.

"What for exactly?"

Travis grinned, wriggling his pale eyebrow. "To fall in love of course." He pushed open the glass door.

Blake looked at the girl with the red rose in her hair and perfect golden brown skin, he exhaled and went in.
Meet the Author

Author Image - Caroline Bell Foster

Caroline Bell Foster was born in Derby, England and with her family went on a six week holiday to Jamaica. She stayed for 18 years!

Ever the adventurer, Caroline bought her first pair of high heels in Toronto and traded her pink sunglasses for a bus ride in the Rift Valley at 18. She wrote her first short story on that bus and had it published the following year in a local newspaper.

With themes of substance, Caroline's latest novels' defy convention and celebrate modern day Britain.

Other Novels' - Ladies' Jamaican, Caribbean Whisper's, Saffron's Choice, Call Me Royal and Call Me Lucky (The Call Centre Series)

The Call Centre Series is written as a tribute to all those who work the night shift in a call centre, as she has done. The first novel, Call Me Royal, became an Amazon best seller.

The author now lives in Nottingham, England with her husband and two children.
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***Cover Reveal*** THE DARKEST FROST by Tanya Holmes


TheDarkestFrost 

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Title: The Darkest Frost, Vol 1 of a 2-part serial (TDF, #1)
Author: Tanya Holmes
Genre: A Gothic paranormal romance with a twist.
Release Date: June 22, 2015
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Blurb

When the ghost of her best friend begs for her help, psychic detective Denieve Knight goes undercover as a live-in domestic to catch a killer. She sets her sights on the most likely suspect: her friend’s mysterious employer, Doctor Braeden Frost. Dubbed "Dr. Death" by the press, the notorious hematologist is linked to nineteen other suspicious fatalities—all are former patients. The brooding recluse is a man of many secrets, the darkest of which may be lurking beneath the leather gloves he never removes.  

Excerpt 

THE DARKEST FROST, Volume 1 of a 2-part serial, © Tanya Holmes

Fear all but crippled me as I listened to the wind beating the treetops. Listened to the creaks and groans of the house. Took some effort, but I got up and inched my way to the door with legs as steady as rubber bands. I yanked it open only to find the hallway empty except for a fiery trail of footprints. Strangely, the carpet didn’t burn. Were I not buck naked, I would’ve followed right then. Instead, I backed into my room, fully intending to throw something on. But twin headlights skipped along the wall through a crack in the drapes. I shut the door and edged over to the window to brush the heavy curtains back. High beams sliced into the darkness as a vehicle cruised up the hill, breaking free of the wispy fog. A gunmetal-gray Jaguar taxied into the courtyard and pulled in beside my late-model Chevy. My adrenaline spiked as soon as the headlights doused. Moments later, Dr. Braeden Frost climbed from the car and slung a gray satchel over his shoulder. It appeared to be a medical bag. He was dressed in dark clothes—leather coat, pants, boots, and gloves. Even his silky hair was black. He would’ve melted into the night if not for the security lights flooding the grounds and the white aura framing his body.  I’d witnessed a similar illumination on others in his profession. Doctors. Nurses. Orderlies. Most everyone in health care. I’d seen the glow on cops and morticians too. In fact, all who came in direct contact with the dead and dying had it. Still, on Frost the neon radiance was chilling. The wind rushed past him, sending the tail of his trench coat dancing on a breeze. Then as if he sensed my presence, his gaze shot to my window. Our eyes locked. His narrowed and I froze. Unable to move, unable to breathe, I stood rooted in place like a petrified tree. The man gave the word “presence” new meaning. He had a stillness about him, an eerie calm that chilled my blood. I was surprised yet intrigued. Intimidated yet inexplicably drawn to him.  An eternity passed before I found the will to duck away. I plastered my back against the wall, my gaze doing a mad search around the ruined room for something to put on. A light breeze hissed outside, but still I didn’t hear him move. Finally, a trunk opened and slammed shut. Next came the slow but steady sound of footsteps crunching gravel as he trudged around the left side of the house.  Downstairs a door wailed open. Floorboards creaked, then a stair, followed by another. I dashed around like a headless chicken, tearing through my clothes, desperate to find something—anything—to throw on. But then the footsteps stopped just outside my bedroom and a menacing shadow crept beneath the door. The lock. I’d forgotten to click it.  I stood motionless in the center of the room, my gaze latched on the knob, my blood pulsing in a crazy rhythm. I was still frazzled from Caryn’s appearance, and all I kept thinking was, please, please, please don’t let him come in here with me naked as the day I was born, and the room a complete mess.  Seconds passed, and still the shadow remained. Lurking, looming, waiting.  Normally, I had to be in the same room with people to read their emotions, but only five feet separated us, and a strong odor of sulfur—anger—wafted in from the hallway. No mistaking the owner. The essence belonged to him. The smell ebbed, replaced by a hint of saltwater and allspice. The former scent was fear, the latter smacked of uncertainty. So Frost was angry, afraid, and confused by my presence. The realization made my heart go from thumping to pounding. Seemed like hours before his shadow finally retreated. The creaking staircase should have calmed me, but I was still unnerved. I slammed my lids shut and listened to his footsteps and the jingle of keys, followed by a door groaning open. When it shut soundly moments later, I collapsed on the bed, landing in a wet heap.  What the heck had I gotten myself into?  

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About the Author

Amazon Bestselling Author Tanya Holmes is a Golden Leaf double-finalist, a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart finalist, a recipient of the Maggie Award, the MICA Award, as well as Overall Winner of the Sandy Haddad Award and a two-time finalist and one-time winner of The Emily (Best of the Best). She's happily married with children and loves reading, writing and a good cup of coffee---but not necessarily in that order. She has two novels coming out in 2015: The Darkest Frost, a two-part Gothic paranormal serial romance with a twist, and in 2016, Temptation's Edge, a contemporary romance.  

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***Cover Reveal*** Reaching Rose by J.P. Grider

Reaching Rose by J.P. Grider 
(Hunter Hill University, #3)
Publication date: May 2015 
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance



Synopsis:

Rose Duncan is dancing on Broadway. She’s spent hours a day for the last two decades to get there, and now she’s living the dream. She’s happy, she’s driven, and life couldn’t get any better.

Ben Falco is a pitcher whose only goal is to make it to the Major Leagues. He keeps his grades up, he doesn’t party, and he stays away from committed relationships – they’ll only distract him.

But when Ben meets Rose, she’s no dancer, and she’s certainly not happy. In fact, she doesn’t seem to be living at all. Yet something about her makes him want to know what’s turned her into this shell of a person, and if he can be the one to reach inside her mind and pull her out.

Ben doesn’t want a relationship. Rose doesn’t want to get better. But once their hearts collide, it’s a whole new ballgame.

Reaching Rose is a story about Rose and Ben, and a little about their friend Johnny Gleason – a genius who has plans of his own until they too slip from his grasp. This is a tale about love, loss, and guts, and the ability to play hardball when life throws you a curve.


AUTHOR BIO:

J.P. Grider is a New Adult and Young Adult author. She is the author of seven novels. Her young adult series The Honor Trilogy consists of A Touch of Honor, A Man of Honor, and A Heart of Honor, while her first two novels - Unplugged (A Portrait of a Rock Star) and Maybe This Life - are standalone adult contemporary novels. Her most recent release is the new adult romance Mending Michael, which is the second in her Hunter Hill University series. The next book in the series - Reaching Rose - will be released in May, 2015. All the books in the Hunter Hill University series are standalone books and can be read in any order.

You can follow J.P. on Facebook at J.P. Grider, Author, on Instagram and Twitter @JPGrider1, and on her blog at jpgrider.com

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Wednesday, 1 April 2015

***Cover Reveal*** UNPLUGGED by Sigal Ehrlich


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Title: Unplugged
Author: Sigal Ehrlich
Release Date: 2015
Cover Designed by: The Cover Lure

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Blurb
After surviving the long and excruciating recruitment process, I thought I would end up working for Madonna or the CIA at the very least. Boy, was I wrong. Even in my wildest dreams I couldn't have imagined what I was in for. What my heart was in for. I couldn't have possibly fathomed the lifestyle, the responsibility, how much it would take out of me, the inner battles, and mostly, the emotional whirlwind. I could never have imagined, prepared myself for, or anticipated… Him. It was supposed to be a job. Just a temporary job. Just a few months. Just a short stop before the journey I was about to take to follow my dream. It was supposed to be a lot of things...but not this. Little did I know it would be the one event that would shape me, would change me, would bring on such a shift in the balance of my world. Would bring... Him. Would bring… Them. Both. Into my life.  

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About the Author
Sigal
By teen age, Sigal already lived in three different continents where she was lucky enough to experience and visit varied places, meet unique people, which only helped fuel her overly developed imagination. Currently, Sigal calls Estonia home where she lives with her husband and three kids. 
Not exactly sure where they will end up next… 

 
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***Book Blitz*** Finding Fisher By Dakota Madison


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Finding Fisher Cover

Book Title: Finding Fisher 
Author: Dakota Madison 
Genre: New Adult Romance 
Release Date: March 2, 2015 
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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  Book Blurb 

Franklin Smith was the perfect fiancé. He was at the top of our class at Stanford and had been recently accepted to Harvard Law. But Spring Break our senior year of college changed everything. He went back home to New Jersey and never returned. At his funeral I discovered a guy I never knew. His secret past. And a twin brother, Fisher, I didn’t know existed.

Author’s Note: This book is dedicated to cover model, Joshua Scott Nicholson (August 30, 1990 - December 12, 2014). A portion of the profits from the sale of this book will be donated in Josh’s memory to Joining Hearts, Inc., a 501 (c)(3), all-volunteer, non-profit organization dedicated to providing housing support to people living with HIV and AIDS in Atlanta. Cover Photographer Eric McKinney of 6:12 Photography will also donating a portion of his profits to Joining Hearts in Josh’s memory.

  excerpt

When I phoned information they gave me an address for Sherry Smith in Old Town. Heading down a long, windy semi-paved dirt road I’m just thankful I have a rental and not the luxury car my parents purchased for me for my twenty-first birthday.

I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face when I see a run-down double-wide at the end of the driveway. The house, if you can call it that, has definitely seen better days. And those days weren’t in this century. The place is surrounded by old trucks in various states of disrepair along with piles of engine parts everywhere.

After I park the little Hyundai I hop out and stretch my long legs. I normally don’t do well in compacts, even with the seat back as far as it will go. This car is no exception.

As I look around for signs of life all I see are a few mangy-looking stray cats milling about, no doubt searching for rats or other varmints who will serve as their next meals.

Then I hear the faint sound of tapping. Followed by an “Oh, No!”

I guess it’s not just me and the cats here. I head toward the area from where the exclamation emanated.

An old truck that looks like it hasn’t been driven since the 1950s is behind another truck maybe from the 1970s.

There’s a man with the entire top half of his body underneath the hood of the older truck, obviously trying to fix it. All that’s visible as I approach is his bottom half, in tight-fitting Denim and black work boots.

I clear my throat, hoping to get his attention, but I get a rather annoyed “Just a minute” instead.

After sixty-two seconds pass I clear my throat again. “It’s been over a minute. Sixty-three seconds to be exact.”

He laughs. One that sounds familiar. Too familiar. His laugh sounds just like Franklin’s. A shiver runs through my entire body in response.

When he extricates himself from the hood of the car and turns toward me my knees buckle and I nearly faint.

The man grabs me just before I hit the dirt. Once he has me upright I notice that the brand new white silk shirt I’m wearing is now covered in grease.

“This can’t be happening,” I utter as I try to remember if grease can be removed from silk.

I quickly remove my stash of sanitizer wipes from my pocketbook and get to work trying to remove some of the grease from my shirt.

“I don’t think that’s going to work,” the man says.

He looks just like Franklin, but a disgustingly filthy version of my fiancé. Every inch of the guy is covered in grease and dirt. It’s like my worst nightmare come to life.

One of the few things I hate more than being disorganized is being dirty. I will do almost anything to avoid becoming soiled in any way.

The guy’s eyes search mine as if he’s trying to figure out what I’m doing standing in front of his old truck in the middle of nowhere New Jersey.

“Here,” I say as I hand him two of my sanitizer wipes to clean his grimy hands.

“That’s not going to work either.”

I hand him one additional wipe. “Better?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. I have special grease remover in the house. My hands are never completely clean, but I’m used to it. I’ve been a mechanic all my life.”

“Your voice,” I mutter. “You sound just like him. You look like him too. It’s unbelievable.”

“Like who?”

“Franklin.”

“I should. He’s—um—was—my twin brother.”

I feel my stomach start to knot. “He told me he was an only child.”

The guy lets out a cynical laugh. “I’m not surprised. When he left Old Town he left all of us behind. A hot shot lawyer and fancy politician doesn’t need a twin brother whose a mechanic hanging around his neck. Better not to have a brother at all, I suppose.”

“He really is gone?” My voice cracks again. It’s starting to get annoying.

“He was gone a long time ago. When he left for Stanford he didn’t look back. But he is dead, if that’s what you mean.”

His face looks pained. Grubby and wounded.

As it finally starts to sink in that Franklin, my Franklin, really is gone. I can feel my entire body start to shake. And before I know what’s hit me I’m crying.

Me, Chloe Woodford, the girl who never shows any emotion, is blubbering like a child. “I just—don’t—understand—it,” I say between snivels.

“What?” Franklin’s brother whispers.

“Any of it.”

“Can you tell me what you’re doing here?”

I hold up my left hand, hoping he’ll take note of the 1.2 carat diamond engagement ring that Franklin bought me.

“Nice rock. So you’re rich. I figured that out before you flashed the bling. But it still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

“Franklin is—um—was my fiancé.” I try to speak with as much dignity as I can muster, but the words still feel like they’re getting caught in my throat.

When he slams the hood of the truck closed I nearly jump out of my skin. I’m raw and on edge and the loud noise sends me reeling.

“I should have known.” He waves a hand up and down my body. “You fit every requirement he could ever want in a trophy wife. A tall, beautiful blonde. Model thin, but still has a nice rack. Your family obviously has money. And you go to Stanford, right? So you’re not dumb. You’re the perfect package. You would have made the ideal politician’s wife.”

“You’re not a very nice person,” is nearly all I can manage to say. “I lost my fiancé.”

“And I lost my twin brother. So what’s your point? There’s no law that says I have to be nice.”

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like Franklin’s brother. I really don’t want to be around him and his filth, but I’m not sure I have any other options. I need answers and at least he’s giving me some, even if I don’t like the message or the messenger.

My mother is a shark is sheep’s clothing. And she always told me you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. That might be a cliché, but I’ve always found it to be true. I decide to up the charm a few notches to see if I can entice Franklin’s brother to tell me more.

“So you’re a mechanic?” I bat my big blue eyes at him. “Do you work at a garage?”

“This is it.” He motions around the yard, which looks more like a junkyard. “I’m a mobile mechanic.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

He removes a business card from the front pocket of his jeans and hands it to me. I try to take it in such a way that I don’t have to touch the grease stained fingerprints all over the outer edge.

“Are you afraid of getting dirty?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“You seem to have an aversion to it.”

“I don’t like it. I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of it.”

I examine the card: Fisher Smith, Mobile Mechanic and then a phone number.

“I’m Chloe Woodford, by the way, in case you’re interested.”

He just nods. And doesn’t really give me a clue whether he’s interested in knowing anything about me or not. But I soldier on because there are a lot of things I still want to know about Franklin. And in order for me to get the information I want I need to try to warm Mr. Iceman up a little bit.

“So do you drive around and fix people’s cars?”

He laughs. “That’s a small part of my business. The local sheriff is a buddy of mine. He refers anyone who breaks down on the side of the road. I work with local farmers, who need help with old trucks or even tractors or farm equipment. I also work on dirt bikes, race bikes, ATVs. If it has an engine I can fix it.”

Holding up the card I ask, “How’d you get the name Fisher?”

“My dad loved to fish. It was one of his favorite pastimes.”

“He doesn’t fish anymore?”

He shakes his head. “He died when Franklin and I were twelve. I guess he never told you that either.”

“Nope. How did he die? He must have been pretty young.” As soon as I ask the question I immediately regret it. Especially when I see the look on Fisher’s face.

“Shotgun suicide.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just…”

“Franklin didn’t tell you much, did he?”

I let out a single, cold laugh. “He told me a lot. I’m just realizing that most of it wasn’t true. Your dad didn’t work on Wall Street either, did he?”

Now Fisher is the one who laughs. “Is that what he told you? Dad was a mechanic. Taught me everything I know.”

“What about your mom?” I ask.

“Mom started working at the local deli after my dad died. She’s been there ten years now. She works the breakfast and lunch shifts mostly. They’re known for their Taylor ham sandwiches. Best in the county. She’ll be back soon. Then I’ll be on the road. I’ve got to help Randy Barnes get his Jeep ready for race season.”

I had no idea that people raced Jeeps, but I keep that to myself. He seems to take it for granted that it’s common knowledge.

“Maybe I’d better go before she gets back.”

“Why?” For the first time since I arrived he actually sounds like he wants to talk to me.

“I phoned Franklin’s cellphone when he didn’t make it back to Stanford. Your mom answered and didn’t seem very happy to hear from me.”

“She’s been going through a lot the last few years. And losing her golden boy didn’t help. We have no idea what’s going to happen with Jackson. She’ll most likely get full custody. Not that she didn’t have him a lot anyway, but now it will be 24-7 thing.”

My stomach knots as I ask the next question. “Who’s Jackson?”

The smallest of smiles appears on his face. “My brother was full of secrets, wasn’t he? Come on.”

  Meet the Author 
DAKOTA MADISON is a USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR. She has been writing since she learned to read and fell in love with books. When she's not at her computer creating spicy new romances, Dakota is traveling to exotic locales or spending time with her husband and their bloodhounds. DAKOTA also writes romance under the pen names: Savannah Young, Sierra Avalon and Ren Monterrey.

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